


great expectations

by velificatio



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Catboys & Catgirls, F/M, Felid Dynamics, M/M, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velificatio/pseuds/velificatio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First impressions aside, Eames was turning out to be very adept at keeping Saito on his toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	great expectations

**Author's Note:**

> ABOUT THE FELID DYNAMICS:
> 
> The catboys/catgirls in this verse are a feline centric spin on a/b/o dynamics. Instead the dynamics here are queen/tom/tabby, with queen a rough equivalent of an omega, tom an alpha and tabby a beta. Similar to bear's a/b/o verses there are apex dynamics for queens and toms. Apex male queens have a separate vaginal orifice located below their penis, and their testicles are internal are while apex female toms have a separate penis. All female queens are apex's and all female toms are apex.
> 
> Instead of knotting, apex queens have a process during sex known as "locking" where the inner walls of their vaginas swell to the point a penis cannot withdraw from it. Those walls then vibrate and force the penis to ejaculate until the queen's body believes conception has taken place. In place of barbs apex toms have raised rows of little bumps on their penis to coax the queen into locking with them.
> 
> In addition to this male apex queens and apex toms have a baculum in their penis to ensure arousal can be maintained until the queen locks them. Female queens have a baubellum in their clitoris for the same purpose. I am aware this is not a feline trait.
> 
> For a visual of what Saito looks like see this manip: http://decodilapidation.tumblr.com/post/137482675427/saito-and-eames-in-great-expectations

A faint hint of amber incense was still lingering in the air when Saito opened the door to an apartment in Tangier, Morocco. He held in his sigh, glancing at the withering yellow daffodils and blue woodruff sat in a glass vase on the windowsill, which was slightly ajar in the hopes that the smell would have filtered out by the time they’d returned. 

Ntobi’s beige heels clinked against the hallway floorboards before she entered the carpeted room. She did not miss his grimace. “That is your own fault for showing up unannounced,” She remarked, allowing Saito to remove her shawl. “I’d have burned the more earthy scents if I’d known you’d be here early.”

“It’s of no concern.” Saito said, enjoying the sight of her sauntering about her apartment, heels still on for now. As he folded her shawl over a chair beside her bathtub he noted that petals from the woodruff had begun to fall into the rustic clawfoot. “You’ve yet to throw these out.”

Ntobi emerged from her kitchen, handing him a glass of wine. “I like watching flowers die, cliche as it may be. There’s a certain beauty in that sort of decay.”

In the dark her skin was the color of shadows, even with the warm hues of streetlights filtering in from the windows. Saito drank his wine, savoring its aged taste for a moment before turning to the matter at hand. “So you truly believe inception is impossible?”

Sighing, Ntobi at last kicked off her heels as she sat down on a sofa, gazing at her own glass. “Impossible is...too firm word to describe it Saito. I for one, would rejoice to be able to have that kind of influence on many of the people I’ve extracted from. But I worked with a team in Europe on doing exactly what you’re asking me to do now and we failed. So I would say instead, that this technique is still very much in a trial and error phase. And there have been more errors than anything else.”

“Indeed.” Saito sat down beside her. “The first team I assembled to audition for this job left me rather...unimpressed.”

Ntobi’s eyes narrowed as she took her drink but her lips were curved into a smile. “Well you are a difficult man to impress Saito.” She laughed when he did not counter that statement. “I could give you the names of the people I worked with in London, but I’ll tell you now there’s only one person on that list worth looking into.”

It did not escape Saito’s attention that she had pointed said “could” rather than “would”. Ntobi Nuru, however was a woman he was familiar with well outside her capacity as an extractor. This would not be an exchange in money, but in pleasure. Saito sat his glass down on a coffee table. “You’ve only to name your price.”

“Hmm, you’re not so easy as that.” Ntobi grinned. “You had this all planned out before you even came here. I can smell it on you, underneath your cologne even. You knew I would not say no to seeing you through your heat.”

There was the aura of an approaching lioness in her scent. More than that of an apex tom in the presence of an apex queen, a feralness that was unique to Ntobi herself. Saito took it in like a delicacy, his cock stirring in his slacks and his sex opening.

He stood, offer her his hand, which she accepted. However instead of leading Ntobi into the bedroom, Saito pulled her down with him onto the carpet.

Ntobi huffed in surprise, but did not stop him from unzipping her dress. “I thought you hated this carpet.” She remarked, working to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I do,” Saito said with ease. “Mostly. It’s hideous, but has the single redeeming quality of rarely causing rugburn.”

Her hand slid into his slacks, the fine tip of her nails trailing over his erection but no further. Not downwards, where he was already becoming wet for her. Saito kissed the pulse point on her neck, breathing in an area where her scent was at its richest, felt his sex opening further in response to her arousal, pre-spending beading at the slit of his cock. He cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his finger and thumb, all the while kissing her throat.

A deep, rattling purr fell from Ntobi’s lips. “Ah, I’ve missed this.” She stroked him with long, smooth twists of her hand, pausing for a moment to pull her dress off over her head. 

Saito took advantage of the moment, rolling them until he was leaning over her. He spread her thighs, her own cock-smaller than his as all female tom’s were, was hard against his stomach. The rows of little nubs underneath its head tickling against his hair there. After he fully freed himself from his pants Saito took a moment to rub his sex over her length. They both moaned at the slick slide of his folds over those nubs, his cock nudging against her navel.

Ntobi gripped his ass, gasping when he lowered himself so their cunts were rubbing together. She laughed as her head fell back. “You’re a terrible tease for that.”

“Perhaps,” Saito panted, gathering both their cocks in his fist, stroking them lazily. “But remember, I have three days to satisfy you. There’s little need to rush.”

“I should be the one telling you this,” Ntobi grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. “I’m glad you came here early.”

+

To say it had never bothered him, being a male apex queen, would frankly be a lie. Not that it troubled Saito to lie in numerous ways but there was one person he’d long learned to be honest with: himself.

He was not his parent’s only son, at least not in the beginning. For the earliest years of Saito’s life there was also his elder brother Hotaka, who as an apex tom was their pride and joy. Even as he battled leukemia and, at the age of twelve, succumbed to it. Saito had been seven at the time and quickly found his parents hopes and expectations for Hotaka placed upon his shoulders.

It was expected he excel to the highest position in their family company, Proclus Global, in spite of his felid gender. Which was regarded as a disadvantage to his professional success.

In truth Saito internalized that perception, was grateful for the Japanese custom of all felid genders wearing scent blockers in public and professional environments. Outside those he engaged with sexually, few even knew he was a queen. It was not necessarily that he felt shamed by his gender, more so that it was something he needed to keep a tight grip on lest it render him vulnerable in some fashion and so it was not immediately apparent to many.  In private he reveled in it, had not once taken heat suppressants for reasons other than not being able to take time off of his employment.

His wife Mao had been the first to truly challenge his conceptions about his gender. She was twelve years his junior, an apex tom, confident with an ambitious drive and an engaging personality that had drawn Saito to her. In fact he had merely confirmed her suspicion on their fourth date, rather than told her outright.

“You’re an apex queen,” She’d said, pausing over her wagyu steak. And Saito’s heartbeat had skipped, though she did not appear smug. He could not tell for certain what she was feeling.

He wiped at his mouth with a napkin, calming himself. “How did you know?” His scent blocking cologne was potent enough.

Mao smiled. “There’s a magnetism to your manner that is sensual in a very restrained, beautiful way. But I notice many times you are aware of this and attempt to stifle it.” She hummed softly. “I think it is something which could be very advantageous to you. And allow me to assure you that, I am the very opposite of repelled by your gender.”

“It would not do well for you to presume much about me from it,” Saito had warned her, even as he considered her words. There was a frank honesty in her voice. The smile she gave him, red and promising had stirred wetness in his sex.

“I would not be so foolish Daichi, so your condescension is unnecessary,” She appeared at the most mildly apologetic. More challenging than anything else. “But I can say with confidence, I can tell you’ll keep me on my toes.”

He’d not answered her with more than a small smile, barely noticeable. But he could tell she’d seen it, as she allowed his hand to press on her lower back while they stepped into his car. 

Her perfume had the scent of a forest after rainfall. Beneath it, Saito could sense the trace of an apex tom. As he settled onto the leather seat, she put her hand on his knee. Nothing more came of their contact than that, and Saito found himself startled by how much she had left him in  _ wanting _ .

On the first night of their third year dating one another, when Saito walked Mao up to her apartment suite, he was invited inside. In the aftermath of their sex, he’d laid with her legs entwined with his. On sheets rumbled and askew, their clothes piled on the floor. Mao’s scent on his skin like freshly laid sweat, her cock inside of him still, his lock yet to recede.

“My father wants me to marry one of his business partners.” Mao remarked, frank boredom in her tone. She kissed him. “I’d much rather kill him, and continue dating you. Which is cleaner: poison, or asphyxiation?”

Saito traced over her lips with his fingertip. “The absence of a body to determine any cause of death at all.”

He’d seen blood the color of her lips, Saito thought when she smiled. “Of course.” She laid her head on his chest. “I wanted to sleep with you after our second date. It took everything in me not to invite you up on the fourth. And then tonight,” Mao laughed. “I just couldn’t stop myself any longer. I want you intensely Daichi, and there is no way I am going to let my father keep me from you.”

Saito smiled into her hair. “We have our hooks in one another it would seem.”

They were engaged before the third year ended.

+

“There’s no room for tourists on this type of job.”

It was the self-assured arrogance and condescension in Eames’ tone that, coupled with how dismissive his statement was, raised Saito’s ire. From the moment he first looked through the file his intel had collected on Mr. Eames, Saito felt he had a decent measure of the man himself. All the privilege and wealth of an upper class felid, all the spoilage that often came from being an only child. Let alone an apex tom at that. 

And thus far, Mr. Eames was living up to each of Saito’s low expectations. Pity that.

He breathed in slowly, as though he were truly giving a moment of thought to his statement. “This time it seems there is.” Saito replied, with all the assurance of a man who was financing this exploit and, in the end, had the final say on each aspect of it. There was no way he would be so easily set aside.

Glancing at Mr. Cobb, Saito gave him a moment to voice a complaint he knew would never come. The extractor was firmly in his pocket, and his position on the team gave his opinion more leverage than the forgers. 

On a more primal level, Mr. Cobb happened to be a tabby. Although he was unaware of Saito’s felid gender, his own was openly on display as Western society did not believe in scent blockers. Tabby’s could be very amenable to an apex’s authority, be they queen or tom. Saito knew exactly what cadence to set his tone in. Mr. Cobb did not appear pleased, but he offered no protests. 

He did not give Mr. Eames anymore of his attention save for a brief moment when they rose to follow Mr. Yusuf further into his den. That he did not appear chastened by Saito’s rebuttal did not surprise him. What did however, was the lack of any aggression in his scent. Any desire to assert authority, which was what Saito had been expecting.

Instead Saito found a hint of curiosity in Mr. Eames’ scent, in how his gaze swept over him when he moved.

Strange.

+

Having extensive intel on individuals he’d be dealing with, be it in a professional or personal capacity, was greatly advantageous to Saito. A necessity in fact; knowing more about an individual than they’d ever be willing to divulge firsthand in the early stages of relationships. It wasn’t unheard of for him to be caught off guard, or for a number of preconceptions he held about an individual to be challenged upon meeting them in person.

It  _ was _ rare for him to reconsider a person after being confident he’d seen all he needed to to measure their character. And dismiss them. 

Of course it could be due to Mr. Eames’ felid nature as an apex tom that he’d essentially taken the reigns in the planning phase of the Fischer Job, with virtually all the critical components of their endeavor coming from him. But it wasn’t as simple matter of gender dynamics, no, Saito knew better than to attribute such a quality to that. Here was a man extremely well educated, not unheard of given his family background. But there was a sharpness to his intelligence that couldn’t be taught, it was ingrained in him.

Perhaps Saito had underestimated him. 

“You have the most fluid movements I’ve ever seen.” Eames remarked, while Cobb, Ariadne and Arthur were hooked up to the PASIV, Yusuf monitoring them. There was open candidness in his tone. “And there’s nothing excessive about your body language.”

All that Saito had done was sit down and fold his right leg over his left knee. Eames was leaning against his desk on the other end of the room. “I can only hope you’re being this observant while monitoring Peter Browning.”

“No need to worry about that,” Eames assured him. “It’s, unique. The way you move. It ought to appear robotic, how every gesture is so calculated. But it all looks so natural, like running water.”

Saito was intrigued, mostly as he wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading. “Your compliments are accepted Mr. Eames, but I don’t see the relevance of this.”

“Subconscious forgery isn’t just an art. The practice can be very scientific in method,” Eames shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Trial and error. I’ve spent hours on watching footage of Browning, watching him in person at the office, then working in his forge. Movement is what I work on first, before anything else. I’ve found he’s one of the easier subjects I’ve had, to the point I worried I might be overconfident in my forge.” He took out his pocket watch, studying it. “So I’ve taken to forging you beforehand. Even when I’m standing stock still, I know in my gut I have you entirely wrong. And then I’m quite sure, my gut is as good as ever.”

Leaning back in his seat, Saito tilted his head in consideration. “So this is…”

“A thank you,” Eames finished. “For being a pain in the arse to forge.”

Saito hadn’t meant to vocalize his humor with a laugh, but it came out regardless. 

+

In the hotel level elevator, Saito was taking a moment to contemplate just how much of Mr. Arthur’s pay he was going to deduct for his oversight and Mr. Yusuf’s for accepting the bribe. Little thought was given to limbo, it's possible shade hanging over him. He knew he held the key to what Mr. Cobb truly wanted to achieve from this job and it was not an issue of monetary gain. Their fates were now interestingly tied. 

He was taken aback when the elevator opened and a tall, voluptuous blonde projection sauntered in. She moved like Mao and Ntobi. 

“Mr. Saito,” Her voice was lower than it needed to be. Intimate. “May I have a moment?” Her hand went to his cheek without giving him time to answer.

And Saito found himself in the unusual position of being thrown off. Professionally he knew he had to get rid of her, but he was reacting to her in a sexual manner that was precisely like he’d been told apex queens were vulnerable to. He glanced at the their reflection.

And saw the face of Mr. Eames looking back at him.“You look a bit perkier.”

“Very amusing Mr. Eames.” Saito shoved him backwards with a small sneer. It riled him, how this man was able to get underneath his skin.

At first Eames laughed but then he abruptly paused, inhaling as though he was taking the air in around them for the first time. His brow arched. “You’re not a tom at all.” He said, openly surprised. “You’re an apex queen.”

Apparently after being shot in the first level, Saito had not given thought to dreaming himself up in this one with his scent blocker applied. He frowned at his own oversight but it was the least of his concerns. “I do not see the relevance of this.”

Eames’ mouth quirked. “Well you’re right, as far as this job is concerned there is none. But, in regards to my-”

Scoffing, Saito dismissed whatever else he had to say with a wave of his hand. “You have charm Mr. Eames,” He looked him over again, slower this time. “And confidence.” His tone was unimpressed. “Perhaps verging on arrogance. Which can be such a detriment if it lacks substance.”

Rather than falter, Eames’ grin grew sharper. “Of course,” He nearly purred, before switching the topic.

+

“No room for tourists on this kind of job?” Saito parroted Eames’ own words back to him, tasting blood in his mouth. Letting the fact that he was indeed going to fall into limbo settle over him.

Eames glanced at him in surprise at first. Slowly his expression melts into something with warmth, and reassurance. “Don’t be silly,” He told Saito. It sounded more like “ _ Don’t give up _ .”

Saito felt the weight of the grenade in his hand. He had no plans to.

+

For the duration of the flight, Saito balanced the memories of sand morphing and cascading into a palace, the feel of age settling in his bones, in his mind, with trying to reorient himself to reality. Where only a half and hour had past, not a near lifetime. 

He made his phonecalls. Then excused himself to the restroom. Splashing water over his face, Saito looked at himself in the mirror. He could the phantom age in his eyes. There was a heaviness to his weight he had not possessed before. 

But there was no time to dwell on it, what it meant. He had plans to set in motion for how his company would respond to the dissolution of the Fischer empire. A few more brief phone calls, a handful of texts and he then set himself to rights. Opening the restroom door to find Eames right outside of it.

“Thought you might have lost yourself in there mate,” Eames’ smile was all easy candor. At odds with the underlying seriousness in his tone.

Saito did not even bother to frown. “Your worry was misplaced.”

He made to walk past him but Eames got him to pause with a hand on his wrist.

“I was thinking-”

There was far too much suggestion in his tone for Saito’s liking. “Whatever notions you have for where our relationship goes from here,” He said under his breath. “I’ll inform you now that they’ll remain professional as far as I’m concerned.”

However Eames might have felt about Saito’s rebuttal, he recovered from it quickly enough. While waiting on his private jet for takeoff, his men informed him that Eames and Arthur had departed from the airport together.

Arthur, who was an apex queen the same as Saito. He didn’t give the matter any further thought than that. It was settled. 

+

Saito met Eames again in Madrid, six months following Fischer’s inception.

Proclus Global was booming from the corporate windfall the dissolution of Fischer's conglomerate had brought, careful investments and dealings being made left and right. He'd bought nearly all of Fischer's assets. In the midst of this success however, Saito found himself plagued by persistent dreams of his time in limbo, part of him aching to go under once more. A dangerous desire; he would not forget the sight of those foolish men in Yusuf’s den who’d shackled themselves to an illusion. 

Nevertheless Saito had been changed by his experience. He would adjust, as he had no other choice. Part of that adjustment was coming to terms with how few activities truly engaged him anymore. In his professional capacity Saito remained an active, assertive presence on Proclus’ board.

Yet even while playing mahjong in a parlor, or being hosted at the most lavish of affairs with some of the most affluent and sharply intellectual individuals of the time, Saito would find himself bored.

Such was the case in the  _ Museum of Lázaro Galdiano.  _ He’d been invited by the curator to attend an unveiling of newly acquired early medieval European objects. In truth, he was attending more for Mao’s sake. One of her favorite lovers was a restorative painter employed here. For himself, he drank his champagne, surveyed various artworks, and earned the grudging respect of his Western contemporaries by being more knowledgeable about their art history than they themselves were. 

Saito was staring at Francisco Goya’s  _ Witches Sabbath _ , longer than he needed to. Approximately ten minutes ago he’d felt someone observing him, keeping a good distance. But now they were closer, coming nearer.

He took half a step to the left side and Eames was beside him. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” Eames’ voice was a slow drawl, his accent slightly emphasized. “Would you happen to have a moment to spare, Mr. Saito?”

Saito glanced at his watch in superficial consideration.“I have a feeling, you are not on the guestlist.”

“You’d be right about that,” Eames grinned. “And I have a feeling you are bored stiff.”

“How did you get in?” To his own surprise, Saito was honestly curious.

There was mischief in Eames’ eyes. “If I uncloth any of my mystery, you’ll lose interest in me.”

“That,” Saito turned towards him. “Is a highly self-serving statement Mr. Eames.”

“Because it assumes you find me interesting?” Eames’ brow arched. “Well, you haven’t brushed me off have you?”

“In good time.”

“If you say so,” Eames took a moment to glance at the painting before them. “I find you interesting as well. And perhaps, I have been overly presumptuous in the past. Maybe even unnecessarily condescending, we’re all human you see-”

Saito gave a minute shrug, unimpressed. “Halfheartedly self-flagellating yourself will not compel me to sleep with you.”

“Yes, the song and dance of seduction has lost its charm you.” Eames’ voice took on a more serious edge. “So let's bypass the bullshit: I interest you, you interest me. What would it take for you to think of pursuing our mutual interest further?”

It was a gamble, what Eames was proposing, ever the forger. His cards were on the table and by humoring him, Saito had revealed his own position to be partly a bluff. Indeed, he was interested in Eames. More than that, he felt engaged in this conversation, something that was rare these days. Even so, he certainly had no obligation to fold his hand easily. 

“You’re a thief,” Saito sipped at his champagne. He did a brief sweep of the gallery. “Steal me something from this museum you think I’d desire to have as my own. If your item meets my approval, I’ll consider you further.” Eames was nonchalantly sipping his champagne but gave a tell tale blink when Saito finished with, “You have exactly two weeks to do this.” 

“Nothing’s ever easy with you is it?” He did not sound put off, but delighted.

Saito pointedly took a breath in lieu of responding. His eyes were on the painting again for a moment, before he turned back to Eames. “I enjoy expedient, precise and accurate results. Mr. Eames, do not disappoint me.

Eames leaned in towards him, close enough for Saito to hear his breathing. “I wouldn’t dare.”

+

Ten days later Saito’s personal assistant Naoki informed him that a package had arrived at Proclus headquarters explicitly addressed to him. No return postage. Only a card:  _ From Nuremberg, with the most sincere of regards. _

He had it brought to his office, feeling a remarkable sense of anticipation as he carefully undid the packaging. Inside a velvet box was a small, rectangular ivory case with brass locks. An item Saito had looked at only briefly while at the museum, but had in that moment considered it deeply. In its image he saw the shores of limbo, heard his footsteps echoing in abandoned passages of a palace he’d reconstructed. 

A diptych sun clock, from Nuremberg. Estimated to have been crafted in 1620.

Saito held it in his hand, thumb gently stroking over the engraved markings of time. Stared out his windows into the Tokyo skyline for sometime afterwards.

+

To his credit, Eames did not place himself in Saito’s way following the delivery of his gift. The ball, as they said, was settled firmly in Saito’s court. 

He’d made no assurances for anything beyond consideration. However he knew immediately after receiving the sun clock what his decision was. All that remained was deciding the manner of how he’d execute it.

What he did was wait, eight months in all, until his intel informed him Eames was performing a job in Japan and his team was meeting in Kyoto. And he had the head of his private security pick Eames up from their base of operation in the evening and bring him to the suite of a hotel Saito owned. 

“Eight months is quite a while to be left in suspense you know.” Eames remarked as he entered.

Saito was at the bar, dressed down to a crisp linen shirt and black slacks. He poured both of them a glass of bourbon. “I doubt you felt entirely in the dark as to how your choice was received.”

“I did have a gut feeling…” Eames nodded at him and took his shot.

A hum was the only response Saito gave him. He was half hard and his sex beginning to grow wet. Eames wasn’t wearing any aftershave or cologne, nothing but the musk of his own scent and Saito could smell it, felt as though it were falling over him. He himself wore no scent blockers. There was no need to be indirect as to why they were here.

“Haven’t forgotten the way you smell,” Eames said, catching Saito’s eye. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I don’t even have any flowery or high-minded words to describe your scent.”

A little bead of moisture clung to his lower lip. Saito touched it with the tip of his finger, studying the liquid on his skin. “For your sake.” He murmured. “I hope it does not overwhelm you tonight.”

Eames touched his wrist, lowering his head to suck the bit of bourbon off Saito’s finger. He breathed in a little deeper, seeing that full mouth envelop his finger.  Eames held eye contact as he pulled away. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Saito walked around the bar, put his hand on the back of Eames’ neck and kissed him. His lips were even softer than he’d thought they’d be. And he was skilled at this, a pleasing mixture of forceful and submissive, rolling his tongue with Saito’s rather than trying to overwhelm him. They walked backwards until Eames was pressed against the wall, his hands on Saito’s hips, up under his shirt over his chest, where they paused.

Saito gave him space to breathe. He and Mao had three cubs in their pride, one which she carried to his two. Their youngest cubs, their twins, were twelve years old. His breasts were so slight that they were unnoticeable under the layers of what he wore in his day to day business dealings.

But not now. Eames’ gaze fell on his chest. “You’ve had kids?” 

Saito arched his brow. “Difficult for you to believe?”

“Well no,” Eames smirked. “Just I can’t imagine you being pregnant as anything other than terrifying.”

He laughed leaning down to kiss Eames’ throat while his shirt was shoved down off his shoulders. Eames kneaded his breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers. Saito arched into the touch, mouthing along Eames’ neck, putting bites and bruises there. Judging by the noises Eames was making, he’d hit a very sensitive pleasure spot. 

He paused to breathe in his scent there, a heady mix of arousal and power. Against Eames’ skin Saito’s breath grew hotter. He kissed him again, maneuvering them towards the bedroom while they both tried to undress.

All of the sudden he felt himself being lifted off the ground. Saito couldn’t stifle his sharp inhalation, both in his surprise and at the display of Eames’ strength. Posturing to show himself worthy of Saito’s lock. He scratched through Eames’ hair, kissing him deeper, legs wrapping around his waist.

Eames set him down on the bed with care, kissing down Saito’s neck before he took one of his breasts in his mouth, nearly the whole of it for how small it was. He bit down, not hard enough to bruise, but enough for Saito to buck and feel the sting. And moan.

Mischief and lust were hot in Eames’ eyes as he looked up at him. His fingers were making quick work on the buttons of Saito’s pants. He moved further down the bed, taking those slacks with him.

Saito touched himself, stroking his cock as he watched Eames shove down his own pants. When Eames lowered himself to cover him however he rolled them until he was on top.

“Had a feeling I’d be on my back for this.” Eames chuckled.

“How presumptuous of you,” Saito said. “Tell me something, why is that quality so unique to male toms alone?”

“Do you really want the answer for that  _ now _ ?”

“No.” Saito crawled up over him and turned, knees on either side of Eames’ head. “There are better matters your mouth can attend to.”

Eames’ growl was a thick, pleased rumble, his hands immediately on Saito’s hips, urging him downward. The first touch of his sex on Eames’ mouth coaxed a sigh from him. His folds were given a slow, open-mouthed kiss, then licked thoroughly with a wide, long tongue. Eames wasn’t rushed about it either, each sweep was a lazy, drawn out motion. Wetness bloomed inside of him at the attention, his cock jerking. Saito’s fingers tangled in the bedsheets for a moment, breathing harder, deeper...

Until Eames suddenly pulled away.

“Did you just  _ purr _ ?” Saito doubted Eames could sound more gleeful if he tried. Mouth inches away from his folds, he could feel the heat of Eames’ breath tickling his already fevered flesh.

In lieu of answering him immediately, Saito reached back and pulled him up by the hair, crushing that mouth to his sex. “Did I tell you to stop?” He at last replied, his tone even.

Eames moaned into his cunt, pulling Saito’s folds between his lips. He suckled them in long, hard pulses, rubbing the flat of his tongue up against them. Saito couldn’t stifle his groan, he rolled his hips, reaching down to stroke his cock for a moment before he leaned forward, licking up the thick line of Eames’ erection. So full and lined with veins, his foreskin was pulled back taught, making the nubs underneath his cockhead even larger in appearance.

He took it into his mouth, enjoying the deep moan he received from Eames. Bobbing his head slowly, Saito cupped Eames’ balls, rolling them in his fist. His tongue rubbed back and forth over his nubs, coaxing pre-spending from Eames. Its taste was rich and Saito teased at the slit of his cock to draw more out, pushing for Eames to spread his legs with his free hand. 

He did, widely so. Which suited Saito just fine. Spitting on his fingers, he dipped them into Eames’ ass, circling his hole. Slow, just the right amount of pressure to make his hips jerk, before carefully pressing in one. At the same time Saito took his cock in further, into his throat. He thrust his finger in smooth strokes. Only one for two minutes, before he added a second.

Eames was making deep, guttural noises into his sex, along with the smack sound of his lips. He shook his face, smearing his cheeks with all the slick he’d drawn out from Saito. Then Saito no longer cared to restrain himself. He rocked back on Eames’ face, felt the first edge of climax rising in him.

It came when Eames reached underneath Saito to fist his cock, while he thrust his tongue inside his sex. Saito pulled off his cock to pant into his thigh, grinding his hips down, riding out the sensation. 

He kept thrusting his fingers inside Eames, spreading them apart. It was readily apparent he’d need to use some actual lubricant, but he enjoyed watching the tremor in Eames’ thighs when his fingers glanced over his prostrate. Eames was still licking his sex in slow circles. tugging on his cock at the same pace. Neither of them had gone soft, their baculums ensured that. Saito panted, the inner walls of his sex swelling in the aftermath of his first completion. Not nearly enough for a lock.

At last he moved off Eames, and the bed. His ass was smacked as he started off towards the dresser and he turned to find Eames smirking, unrepentant. 

“Couldn’t help myself mate.” Eames purred. “What with the lovely body art you’ve got on you.”

Saito scoffed. “It’s an irezumi Eames.” Though he was sure Eames already knew that.

“Again, art.”

He found a bottle of lubricant in the first drawer. “Spread your legs wider, knees up.” Saito told Eames, shaking his head at how wide Eames splayed his thighs. Like a pornographic centerfold. 

His nails scratched through the hair on Eames’ legs, up to his thighs. Saito nuzzled into the large tuft of hair above his cock, the richest point of his scent, as he pressed his slick fingers back inside of him. His breath, tickled along the base of Eames’ erection, drawing another shudder from him.

Saito chuckled, spreading his fingers apart, gliding them in and out smoothly. Every so often he’d intentionally graze that gland inside Eames, make him clench and grunt. 

“Bloody tease.” Eames huffed, moving his hips up and down, following Saito’s motions.

Biting Eames’ inner thigh, Saito smirked at him, adding a third finger without warning. Watching Eames’ lashes flutter. 

“Really no need for anymore prepping.” Eames bit his lip.”Get your cock inside me.”

For the first time Saito pressed the full tips of his fingers against Eames’ prostate, rubbing over that gland. He licked at the bead of pre-spending that wept from his cock. “Demanding.”

But he did withdraw his fingers, smacking Eames’ hip. “I want you on all fours.”

“I want you to know that I knew you were a filthy bastard from the start.”

Saito gave him space to get into position. “You don’t sound displeased.”

“That,” Eames arched his back, pushing his ass out. “Is something I will  _ never _ be displeased about.”

He palmed Eames’ cheeks for a moment, pushing on the bump at his lower back where his tail had been removed. Spreading his ass to spit on his hole, regardless of the fact that he’d already prepped him. Saito rubbed his cock over that pink opening, scratching hard up Eames’ back as he entered him, his teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Eames breathed, squeezing him. 

Saito scented his neck again, his first thrusts shallow. Eames was tight like a vice, and hot. Perfect. As he inhaled his scent, he reached around to fondle those puffy nipples on his chest, twisting them roughly. Eames bucked, his hips rocking back. The smell of his pleasure, all those pheromones mingling with Saito’s own, was like a drug. Driving him to thrust in deeper, pant against his ear.

“I can smell how wet this is making you,” Eames groaned, pushing himself back harder. “Your cunt must be dripping.”

He was, his walls swelling more, wetness sliding down his thighs. Saito moaned, shifting his angle more upwards, aiming from that spot inside Eames that made him shudder and gasp. And he found it, reveling in the sight of Eames’ fists clenching the pillows. Their skin was slick with their sweat, the way they slid against one another intensely pleasurable in its friction. 

Saito could smell the fluid dripping from Eames’ own cock, wetting the bedding. He reached underneath him to grasp that length, tugging it much harder than he had before. Eames grunted, shoving back against Saito while at the same time trying to lean into his stroke. Saito grasped his chin, moving his head so he could reach his mouth. He was close, but he wanted Eames to finish first.

“Come,” He panted against swollen lips. “Come for me.”

Saito twisted his wrist, gave a particularly hard thrust and felt Eames spasm around him. His come spurt from him, while he groaned against Saito’s mouth. He fucked him faster then, riding those rhythmic clenches to his own second orgasm. 

When he pulled out, he manhandled Eames onto his back, settling himself in his lap. Saito’s sex was swelled close to the point of locking, aching for something to fill it. 

“You want to be inside me?” He asked Eames.

Eames’ hands were on his hips.“There’s no question in there, is there?”

“Why should I let you have me that way?” Saito lowered his sex over the length of Eames’ cock, rubbing his fevered valley over that skin.

Eames laughed, breathless.“Because you’re soaking for it. I know you rather enjoy watching me squirm. So what is it going to take for me to get my cock inside of you?”

At first Saito did not answer him with more than a thin smile. Idly he rolled his hips, admiring the tremble in Eames’ form. The scent of his arousal permeated the entire room, thicker than Saito’s own. “You know,” He said, licking Eames’ bottom lip. “What I wish to hear from you.”

Eames arched up into him, trying to catch Saito’s lips. His breath was exquisitely hot, hot as his cock against Saito’s sex. Rough groans and panting fell from his flushed mouth. His folds dragged against the nubs on Eames’ cock, the friction slick, electrifying. He felt the pleasure coil up his spine, draw out more wetness from him.

Thick fingers ran down his back, pushing on the sensitive bump where his tail had been. Eames was on the cusp of meowing for him, he could smell it. In the spike of instinctive aggression in his scent that quickly dialed down to an aroma that was plaintive.

Nevertheless he laughed at Eames’ efforts to distract him, smacking his cheek lightly. Grinding down harder, Saito scratched his nails through the stubble on Eames’ jaw. “Go on Mr. Eames. I want to hear it.”

He shuddered when Eames gave it to him, that high, entreating call. Saito lifted himself up enough to position Eames’ cock at his sex. They both moaned as he sat back down, all those nubs along Eames’ cock bumping along his swollen walls, coaxing his fever higher. 

He put his hands on Eames’ shoulders, immediately began bouncing. To feel him go deeper, make him wetter. His slick was pouring from him, smearing over Eames’ balls.

A grunt fell from his lips when his ass was given another smack. “You’re a fucking minx,” Eames panted, pulling Saito down by his hips. “An insatiable...f-filthy minx.”

Saito dug his nails into Eames’ skin. “And, you’re impossible to shut up.”

He was sweating heavily, trembling, his body on the edge of a lock. Saito ground his hips, rolling them in circles. Those nubs massaged his sex perfectly. He stared at Eames, open mouthed, too close and too proud to vocalize his purr. 

Eames kissed him, eyes open, reaching down to massage Saito’s plump valley, thick fingers grazing over his folds. The low, vibrating purr Saito had been holding back rumbled in his throat. He felt it through his entire body, continuous as his cock spurt and his walls swelled into a tight, relentless lock, vibrating as well. Milking the come straight from Eames. Warm and thick, filling him.

“There you are,” Eames spoke in a quiet, soothing tone. His hand rubbed up and down Saito’s back. “There you are…”

Normally Saito would have scolded him for the coddling tone. Instead he purred louder, too caught up in the sensations. He kissed Eames roughly to hush him, trying to calm the rapid pace of his breathing. And still come continued to flow from Eames’ cock.

“You,” Saito said when he finally found a steady voice. “Are going to pay for that tone.”

Glee flashed in Eames’ eyes at the implication of further...engagements. “Hush,” He teased. “You loved it.”

Saito clenched his body as tight as he could. Finally, rendering Eames silent. If only for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> The sun clock Eames stole from the museum for Saito can be seen here: http://www.flg.es/agenda-de-actividades/exposiciones-temporales/exposicion-coleccion-lazaro-nueva-york-museo#.Vo3HMVI_ERd


End file.
